


Gamzee & John Admire A Pie

by Classpectanon



Series: Three Hundred And Sixty Five Ficlets About Homestuck [76]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 16:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30108939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classpectanon/pseuds/Classpectanon
Summary: Gamzee's home was not a very comfortable place to reside in, despite its richness, its creature comforts. Massage chairs in every room, heated blankets in every outlet, gigantic televisions, unicycles and clown horns, all the things a burgeoning young clown might want to have readily available for their consumption. Bottles of Faygo, some empty, most not, littered the place with reckless abandon. A fine layer of dust covered most rooms, telling its own little story, with the study in the back of the house the dustiest and most storied of all. But today, we are not here to dwell on abandonment, the gift-wrapped bags of trash waiting to be removed from the domicile, the recently-emptied dumpster that would fill to full and empty again - today, we are here to discuss pie.76/365
Relationships: John Egbert & Gamzee Makara
Series: Three Hundred And Sixty Five Ficlets About Homestuck [76]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085684
Kudos: 6





	Gamzee & John Admire A Pie

Gamzee's home was not a very comfortable place to reside in, despite its richness, its creature comforts. Massage chairs in every room, heated blankets in every outlet, gigantic televisions, unicycles and clown horns, all the things a burgeoning young clown might want to have readily available for their consumption. Bottles of Faygo, some empty, most not, littered the place with reckless abandon. A fine layer of dust covered most rooms, telling its own little story, with the study in the back of the house the dustiest and most storied of all. But today, we are not here to dwell on abandonment, the gift-wrapped bags of trash waiting to be removed from the domicile, the recently-emptied dumpster that would fill to full and empty again - today, we are here to discuss pie.

A rich, delicious pie, to be sure. A pie that sat so carefully in the oven you could imagine it was placed there with all the intrigue and lightness of a museum archivist handling a stone tablet, or a new scrap of the dead sea scrolls, carefully shielding it with their body from even the slightest speck of dust or grime or the closest stray sunbeam. A pie that was full of cherries, made out of dough, and currently filling the house with such wonderful scents that it was almost nauseating, but that may have also been the nip of Faygo placed in the filling that cranked the syrupy sweetness dial up several notches. It bubbled and oozed, like a twitching creature, and in no time at all, the oven screamed her siren call - "I am finished, I am finished, I am done. Please remove the food from within me, and use it to nourish yourself with calories."

This is, of course, the way Gamzee thought about food very frequently, and pie even more frequently, considering it was one of his favorite activities. He popped open the oven, slipping on his oven gloves (aka the "Ov Gloves", or "Oven Glovens", depending on his mood), then another set of potholders, and then a thick rag over both hands, just to ensure minimum heat penetration. There was no desire for burnt fingers in this house, no no, fool Gamzee once. Gamzee pulled it out with the same ginger touch that he put it in, only holding it enough to keep it steady, putting it down on a layer of paper towels on a layer of actual towels on top of the marble countertop. He recalled quietly and silently to himself that at one point his dad told him that if he were to put a hot object on the cold marble countertop, not only would it warp and ruin the pan, but it could also crack the countertop itself - this was an unavoidable "bad thing", and thus superstition dictated that it be avoided at all costs.

John sat there, quietly waiting, arms aching from the unthankful work of rolling out pie dough. "Man, that looks pretty great." They said, not really sure what else with which to fill the air with other than idle chatter, vague musical tonality. "Can't wait."

If there was sarcasm involved, it was undetectable by Gamzee, who took most things at face value. "And I couldn't have done it without your help, sibling!" Gamzee replied with much more noticeable enthusiasm but still a slight sense of palpable awkwardness, staring at the pie like it was the inside of a molten volcano and he was planning on sacrificing someone to it. Lava-like cherrystuff bubbled and burbled to the surface, slowly cooling itself down with every exhale of thermal energy in the form of steam. "Now we do, unfortunately, gotta wait. I think if you put this in your mouth it is hot enough to kill you."

"That would be bad." John agreed, flicking their head towards the living room. "Wanna play Super Smash Brothers?"

A bubble of cherry syrup popped at the surface, flecking Gamzee's nose with a quick-drying spot of the substance. "Fuck yeah!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. All views, kudos, comments, and bookmarks are appreciated.  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/classpectanon)


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